Wager
by It'sElementaryMyDearWatson18
Summary: John bets Sherlock to kiss the first woman he sees. It's a lucky day for one Dr. Hopper, because it happens to be her. Slight Molly/Sherlock. T for language and slight mentions of sex/innuendoes. Nothing severe.


**Hello!**

**I've been an admirer of BBC's Sherlock for a while now, and I've just decided I'd try my hand at writing a piece for it. Nothing special, just a simple one shot. Feel free to review, if you feel yourself wanting to do so. If not, just enjoy the work (or if you don't like it, don't). Thanks!**

**A/N: Rated T for a little language and for mentions of sex/innuendos. Nothing too severe for those with innocent minds ;) Also, I'm not British, and therefore do not talk like one. So if anything seems 'un-British' that's why. Terribly sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC therefore, by extension, do not own Sherlock. No money made here, folks!**

**Cheers!**

**X**

The flat at 221b Baker street was a silent as a tomb in the winter, save for the tiny clicks emitted from John's fingers' collision with the black keys of the keyboard as he constructed another entry for his online blog pertaining to the latest oddity he had encountered with his eccentric flatmate and greatest friend. The sound could be easily tuned out by the normal human ear, yet it had begun to grate on Sherlock's easily frayed nerves. He fought back the urge to snap at John to cease the incessant clicking. Suppressing the need, he turned another half-read page of the book he was currently failing to give his full attention. To it's credit, the novel was quite interesting, even to Sherlock's high standards. It had an elegant plot line, and amiable, relatable characters. It was an old paperback lawyer mystery, penned by some well known American author, which had been sitting collecting dust on Sherlock's untidy bookshelves. However, to it's discredit, Sherlock had managed to solve the mystery by the end of the final sentence on the third page. Now, he was just finishing it to ensure he was correct in his deductions and predictions.

However, when the clicks and clacks crescendoed into an almost earsplitting volume, Sherlock Holmes could no longer endure it. He tossed a marker into his book and placed it on the coffee table, near the already chilled tea Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to make him. But not without the usual remark of 'I'm not your housekeeper dear', she constantly reminded her tenant.

Sherlock strolled over to the table where John was seated next to a gently illuminated lamp, and crouched behind him, leaning on the back of the chair as he silently scanned over the work John had already composed. Titled 'The Retail Price of True Love', the writings told of a recent string of suicides (murders, according to Sherlock, a claim the police had eventually been forced to accept), with the victims usually being young couples, who came to a tragic demise at the hands of a bullet to the temple. The pair of lovebirds would be taking a romantic walk through the park on a chilly Saturday afternoon when they suddenly decided to off themselves near a babbling brook or under a canopy of hundred year old trees. The police had been baffled by the unusual circumstances, and after the third pair of body bags had been deposited in Dr. Hooper's morgue, Lestrade had reluctantly phoned Sherlock, asking for his expertise. Sherlock had been thrilled to comply.

"Pointless case." Remarked Sherlock, as he finished reading over John's shoulder and had walked to the coffee table to pick up the tea cup and saucer to deposit in the kitchen.

John stopped typing and turned to face Sherlock. "And why's that?" He had decided to humour the consulting detective. He had already worked out the answer to the question.

"The killer was obviously someone who could no longer experience the love or the happiness all of the couples displayed. Somebody who was angry at their good fortune, and decided to take it out on them by killing them, in a typical manner associated with suicides, so it appears to the police who would eventually find the bodies that the couples weren't as happy as they seem. Now it was most likely someone who had lost somebody, someone who visited the park frequently and encountered the happy couples, leading to their distaste at their presence." Sherlock said, reentering the room and taking a seat in the chair closest to the fireplace, resting his forearms on it's sides. "Case closed." He said, finally.

"Oh come on, Sherlock, like you've never done something stupid after you've lost someone you love." John said incredulously.

"Haven't really ever been in love. So, no can't say I've even done anything stupid." Sherlock said, matter-of-factly, as he reached to pick up the morning's paper, reading over the first article on the page.

John snorted. "Guess I should've seen that one coming." He said, returning his gaze to his computer.

Sherlock's head snapped up. "Beg your pardon?" He asked.

John shrugged before resuming typing. "I mean, come on Sherlock. I bet you haven't kissed a woman in a year. Maybe two." He said.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow, eyes never leaving the black text on a paper. "Do you now?" He said, drawing out the final consonant.

John chuckled. "Have you even slept with a woman?" He asked, honestly wondering about a response. "Or anyone for that matter?" He inquired.

The room for silent for a few beats before he finally replied. "Eight." He said, simply with a sigh.

John stopped editing his piece for a moment and looked up. "What?"

"Eight. I've slept with eight different women over the course of my lifetime." He stated.

John let out a sigh. "Interesting, I didn't know the great Sherlock Holmes would be willing to participate in something as menial as sex." John said, sarcastically.

Sherlock made a hming sound. "I am a man, John." He said.

John mumbled something under his breath that sounded something like 'could've fooled me.'

But John turned back towards him and said, "That still doesn't answer my question, have you kissed a person this year or the previous one?"

Sherlock was silent.

"Right, then. Well, I would be willing to believe that if I were to bet you right now, right this very moment, say ten quid, to go out an kiss the first woman that you see, you wouldn't do it." He stated with a laugh.

Sherlock turned the page, mildly intrigued. There wasn't much Sherlock wouldn't do if provoked. "Sounds like a challenge." He said.

John snorted again.

"Then I accept." He said, sighing.

John, who had been taking a sip of the bottle of water nearby, began to choke. "You do?" He spluttered between coughs.

"Ten quid and all I have to do is kiss a woman? My John, you might as well be giving your money away." Sherlock said with a michevious smile. His cellphone buzzed in the breast-pocket of his suit jacket, and he put the paper down to fish it out. He clicked a button to open the text, scrolled through the message speedily, and slipped it back into it's place.

"Lestrade." He relayed, standing up and straightening his clothes. "He wants us to meet down at St. Barts. Appears our killer isn't finished." He grabbed his scarf and coat from the rack nearby and began to slip his arms through the sleeves and fashion his scarf into a knot around his neck. "Come along, John." He said, already heading for the stairs.

John hastily saved his progress and grabbed his own jacket before taking off after his friend.

Stepping onto the pavement, Sherlock raised his arms and called 'Taxi."

John surveyed the streets for women to satisfy their bet, but quickly found the London street was nearly devoid of either sex. In fact, it was practically barren.

As the two men entered the cab, John could swear he saw Sherlock smirking.

-X-

The ride to the hospital was essentially silent; John stared out the window and Sherlock scrolled through information on his Blackberry.

Upon arriving to their destination, Sherlock removed money to pay the cabbie and followed his companion onto the streets, suppressing the urge to smile as once again John found no women for Sherlock.

"Having trouble?" He asked innocently.

John scowled and stalked into the building.

-X-

_What is it, international hide and seek day for women? _John thought to himself, as he failed again to find any women in the lobby for their wager. The elevator was equally empty, and the two gentleman rode up without chatting.

But a thought popped into his head, and John found himself smiling. _What about the female mortician, Molly Hooper?_ John nearly laughed aloud. The poor woman had a huge crush on the consulting detective, and he was about to give her what she undoubtedly had been yearning for since she met the man, a kiss.

The elevator made a dinging noise, and the metal doors creaked open. The two men strolled to the door of the morgue where John opened and held the door for Sherlock, sweetly telling him 'After you.'

Sherlock was about to ask him what John was so giddy about when his eyes met those brown orbs of the medical examiner, who was just about to wheel her latest patient to his resting place.

_Her_ patient.

_Damn._

He sighed, deciding 'it's now or never'. He quickly strode over to where she was standing, snapping off her soiled gloves and tossing them into her trashcan with her back to the consulting detective. He grabbed her by the shoulders and whipped her around. She barely had time to cry out in surprise before Sherlock cupped her face and gently placed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened in surprise, attempting to determine if this was actually occurring or was she stuck inside yet another of her fantasies.

Then Sherlock moved his hands to the small of her back and kissed her harder, and she concluded that yes, this was reality. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she found herself engrossed in the kiss. She ran her fingers through his curly dark hair, wondering what alien life form was currently inhabiting the body of the glorious Sherlock Holmes, and where she could send them her regards for making him do this. Sherlock slid his tongue across her lips and demanded entrance, which she readily granted, and her knees nearly gave out at the newfound contact. Their tongues began an erotic dance and Molly would later swear that she felt something hardening against her waist. _Couldn't be. _

Then someone cleared their throat, (Damn them to hell) and Sherlock broke the kiss. He looked at her, pupils dilated and face flushed to the point where she resembled a tomato, and smiled slightly, as if assessing her reaction.

John sighed."Alright Sherlock, you've made your point. You win." He said, bringing his wallet from his pocket and drawing out the notes.

"For future reference, Watson, and I do believe Dr. Hooper can testify to this, I can kiss women." He said, looking rather pleased. "Quite well in fact." Sherlock said, turning back to his flatmate, who was holding out the bills.

He walked over to him, accepting the money, leaving Molly dumbfounded, and slightly aroused.

-X-

**Thank you kindly for reading. Please hit the review button and tell me how I did.**

**All the mistakes and out of characterness is mine, I claim it now. **

**Have a lovely week! :)**


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